Star Wars: Serenity of the Force
by Trap3r
Summary: On a distant planet in the Outer Rim, a discovery about the Force will shake the very foundations of the Galaxy, while an old enemy gathers strength in the Unknown Regions, seeking to topple the Republic and claim dominance yet again... *I have changed the second catergory for this story, all rights are reserved for their respective creators.*
1. Preface

Preface

Hello there, friends, fellow nerds, and readers. I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone in this endeavor. I'd like to thank men like George Lucas, Joss Weedon, and Todd Howard for the awesome sci-fi and fanasty experiences that have inspired generations of fans. Most importantly, however, id like to thank my friends and family, who have seen me through tough times.

About this story; This is a crossover between Star Wars, Firefly, and Skyrim, set in a AU galaxy after the clone wars. Thank you, and may the Force be with you, always.


	2. Prologue

Prologue

In the beginning, there was Kopa Khan, the All-father, Yun-Yuuzhan, the one who created time and space. Kopa grew lonely in his existence, and decided to create the universe with his mighty hammer, Genesis, in an event we know today as the big bang. He then shaped the universe into his image, while he created guardian gods, the Yun'o, or Divines, to watch over the universe, led by the greatest of the gods, Ashla and Bogan. Kopa was pleased with his creation, but then saw his sons were not up to the task yet, and it saddened him. As a result of this, he gave his power to his children, while traveling to rule the afterlife until the time was right to return. His sons, blessed with with this new power, quarreled with what to do with it. Ashla, the righteous one, suggested that they continue to protect the inhabitants of the universe, while Bogan, the proud one, talked of conquering his father's creation and ruling it as a king. Ashla could not allow this as Bogan was falling into madness, and so they fought a bloody and calamitous battle, with Ashla, Kopa, who recently returned to stop his sons' battle, and his followers emerging victorious over his brother and his minions. However, the battle had cost them their physical forms, and they combined into a living spirit, that the universe would simply understand as…The Force.

As the rest of the gods went into their respective kingdoms to let the Force deal with the universe, one of its galaxies stood above the rest: Andromeda. The reason was that out of its growing population of quadrillions of individuals whose civilizations were now beginning to master space travel, thousands of beings were beginning to be able to communicate with the Force, and call upon its powers if necessary. These beings were called "Force-sensetive" and began to use their ability to great effect. Some became protectors of the weak and defenceless, while others became conquerors and murderers. Two groups of opposite alignment came into prominence in Andromeda's history: the noble Jedi and the dreaded Sith. These two groups warred for millennia over the Galaxy, until the Chosen One of prophecy, in a duel of swords and powers, struck down the Dark Lord on the city planet of Coruscant. Peace returned to the just Galactic Republic, and the Chosen One became a leader of the Jedi. But the Sith, and the dark side, no matter what happens to them, always survive, and plot their revenge…..


	3. Serenity and Empire

Chapter One: Serenity and Empire

A lone freighter exited hyperspace into Nirni Imperial Space, in the Outer Rim, one of the many places of that region of the Andromeda Galaxy that was not under the control of the Galactic Republic. Instead, it was governed by the Nirnian Empire, consisting of eight sectors, located between Belkadan and Mytus in the northern quadrant, the Empire was once as rich and powerful as some of the Core Worlds; that is, until a devastating invasion and subsequent civil war had torn it apart, and now it was a shadow of its former self, though there has been talk in the Republic that the Empire was getting back on its feet under its current leader, Emperor Antonius Mede. That, however, did not concern the crew of this particular freighter, whose captain was busy communicating with a port official in Riften, a port city on the cold, mountainous world of Skyrim that would make Mos Eisley look clean and civilized in comparison. The captain, a rugged fellow by the name of Malcom Reynolds, looked out the transparisteel windows in the cockpit of his beloved vessel, _Serenity_, at the white and green planet, which has been engulfed in a violent war of independence from the Nirnian Empire for about two years now. Off to the right he noticed three Imperial _Akatosh_-class Star Transports, escorted by a full wing of Seinar's new TIE/Ln Fighter, make way to its capital, Solitude, an enormous city rivaled only by Windhelm, which housed docking ports large enough for an _Acclamator_-class Star Frigate. Mal, as he was known affectionately by his crew, turned to the pilot, Hoban Washburne, known better as Wash, as he made the final adjustments to vector in their approach to Riften, just as both men heard a sickening noise come off their ship. Mal looked at Wash with a concerned look and asked. "What was that? Was that the primary buffer panel?"

"I don't know."

"Did the primary buffer panel just detach from the ship?"

The vessel rocking beneath their feet, confirming their fears.

"Looks like." Wash sighed. Mal was becoming aggravated now.

"I thought I told Kaylee to fix the gorram thing!"

"I don't know if you did, Mal, but without that buffer panel this landing is gonna get pretty interesting."

Now Mal was worried. "Define _interesting._"

"Oh God, oh god we're all gonna die?"

"Great" Mal muttered under his breath as he picked up the speaker for the ships intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, please strap yourselves in and brace for impact, as we're probably going to encounter some slight turbulence and, then, well, explode" Mal then put the intercom down and headed down the hallway toward the engine room, where he encountered his weapons "expert", Jayne, who had that puzzled looked on his face, as always. "Explode? I don't wanna explode."

"Jayne, just how many weapons are you trying to bring?"

"Well, I like to be prepared for a fight, just in case."

"Jayne, I don't plan on any violence taking place. Besides, Brynjolf is a decent fellow, got a fine operation operating in this sector."

"Well, what you plan and what happens isn't exactly the same thing." Jayne retorted. "And I thought that guy tried to kill you when that one deal went not so shiny."

"Isn't the first time someone's tried that; probably not gonna be the last. No grenades"

"What? Awwww." Jayne whined, looking slightly defeated, as Mal stopped to talk to his second-in-command, Zoe Washburne, before heading into the engine room, where Kaylee was working furiously on the engine. "Kaylee, what in gorram hell is going on. I thought you told me that the buffer would last for another two weeks." Kaylee stopped at looked at the captain. "That was _six months_ ago, captain."

Mal looked exasperated. Of course, the last time the Serenity was maintained was at that ionized planet in their home system of Su Lei, and that little escapade nearly got them all killed. "My ship crashes, you crashed her!" Mal turned around to find a very worried looking doctor, Simon Tam. "Doc, hey what's going on?"

Nothing, Captain. I-I was just thinking about River, and how she must be doing on Coruscant." Mal nodded, understanding. After the incident on Verse, Shepherd Derriah Book, having barely survived an attack on his person by the Union of Allied Planets, revealed himself to Mal and crew as a Jedi Master one day on Persephone, and that River was Force-sensitive, explaining her powers, and that with Simon's permission, he would take her to the Jedi Temple, provided that the Jedi High Council agree with him, though he suspected that they would. At first, Simon was livid at the thought of losing his baby sister to some institution, after what the Alliance put them through. But, when his sister confronted him and comforted him by telling him that no matter what, they would always be family, he relented. The goodbye was painful for everyone, though Book told them that the Jedi were some of the most just and caring people he knew. Mal then snapped them both back into reality. "Well Doc, it seems we need some form of inoculation against some particular diseases of this planet."

"Of course, I've already taken the liberty of giving vaccines for Rockjoint and Brittle-bone disease for everyone else, which now leaves you." As he said this, while now in the med bay, he took out two syringes, leaving Mal grimacing. "Oh, come on, Doc, you know I _hate_ needles." He said as the doctor stuck one into his arm.

* * *

Brynjolf stood at the entrance of Docking Bay 24 as _Serenity_ made touchdown in the middle of the ring. The long time career gangster smiled. The Guild, and by extension their benefactor, Maven Black-Briar, have always profited when dealing with Reynolds. He had a feeling that this time would be no exception.

* * *

**That's it for Chapter One. More shall be revealed.**


	4. The Council

Chapter 2: The Council

A popular saying in the Galaxy was that if there was a bright center of the universe, it was Coruscant; the city planet that functioned as the capital of the Galactic Republic, and the financial, industrial, and military powerhouse of Andromeda. It was also home to the Jedi Order, the twenty-five thousand year old organization devoted to promoting peace and justice in the Republic. It was here on Coruscant which stood the Jedi Temple, home to the Order and to the High Council. Located in the Grand Spire at the center, the Council consisted of the Order's most powerful and wise Masters, some of the most important being Grand Master Yoda, Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Derriah Book, and Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One. Currently, the Council was in session, addressing Jedi Knight Ahsoka Tano and her nineteen year old Padawan, River Tam. Yoda, who called this meeting to order, was the first to address the two Jedi standing before them. "Something to report, have you, young Tano?"

The Togurta Knight spoke "Yes masters, our mission to Mustafar went rather well. We managed to convince Gizor Dellso to shut down his droid factories, on the condition he would be pardoned from all charges of treason and allowed to return to Geonosis."

River nodded. "Now that Dellso and his men are off the planet, the Mustafarians have gained control over all business of the planet and are now seeking business deals with several major companies"

The Council was pleased, as Anakin affirmed. "Well done, my old apprentice. With this threat averted, we can finally put the past of the Clone Wars behind us." At forty-three years old, Master Skywalker was not the reckless and angry youth he had been during the war. Now sporting a light beard and moustache, and slightly greying shoulder-length hair, he had been granted the position of Jedi Master when he faced down Darth Sidious, Palpatine, in his office after he told the Chancellor that Grievous was destroyed by Kenobi, who now sported grey, thinning hair, a beard, and several wrinkles. Yoda spoke. "Go now. Rest you two have earned. Summon you, we will, should we need it." Master and Padawan bowed deeply, before exiting the council chamber using the turbolift. A few minutes after they left, Anakin spoke up.

"Now that that's settled, I think we need to turn our attention to the ongoing crisis in the Nirnian Empire."

"I concur. The situation there is becoming far too out of control, particularly with the Stormcloak Rebellion further weakening it against outside attacks. The Union of Allied Planets is looking to carve up territory, for example." Ki-Adi-Mundi stated.

"I don't think that the Alliance will do that, knowing that they'd risk sever economic sanctions and having to close their embassy here on Coruscant." Windu replied.

"The Union would surprise you, Mace. Parliament would much rather expand its power into Nirnian space under the pretense that they are 'preventing civil unrest and chaos '." Book said, a sour look crossing his features.

"Mm, thinking of something, are you, Master Book? A treaty, perhaps, you suggest?"

"Yes, Master. A treaty is precisely what they need, but the two sides on Skyrim won't see the benefit of such unless there was a threat, or if one side backs off its claims."

"Agree I do. But who to send, the question is."

"Anakin, Derriah, Luke, and I can go, Master." Obi-wan volunteered. He knew that Anakin's twenty year old son, and Derriah's former Padawan, could use some time to hone his skills in negotiation, and the conflict on Skyrim could provide a perfect opportunity for him to do so.

"Very well then, Masters Kenobi, Book, Skywalker, and Knight Skywalker will go to Skyrim to negotiate a peace settlement between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks. May the Force be with you." Master Windu declared, adjourning the Council meeting. After most of the Council left, only Mace and Yoda were in the chamber.

"Hmm, a great darkness I sense. The shroud of the dark side falls again."

"That's impossible. Skywalker destroyed the Sith when he killed Palpatine."

"Yes he did, Master Windu. But many Acolytes did Dooku and Sidious train. Unaccounted for, many are."

"So your saying that one of those acolytes could try to rebuild the Sith Order, and throw the Force off balance again."

"A possibility we cannot ignore, it is."

Master Windu nodded, as both Masters got up and went to the turbolift, contemplating on these lost Dark Jedi, unaware of something on Skyrim's moon, something sinister….


	5. Shroud of the Dark Side

Chapter 3: Shroud of the Dark Side

The larger of Skyrim's two moons, Secunda was almost the size of a standard rock planet, thanks to Skyrim's size being on par with a small gas giant. The moon was always covered in a dark red haze, unlike it's slightly smaller twin, Masser, which was covered in ice and snow, giving it a brilliant white appearance. There was nothing totally signifigant about these two moons, save that they had one city on each of them and both were administered by an Imperial governor. In Masser's case, it would be Governor Nilhelm Brevers, a fair and honest man. Secunda, on the other hand, was administered by a middle aged man by the name of Harkon Volkhair, a veteran of the Great War and the Clone Wars on the side of the Republic. Harkon was a renowned war hero who won great praise following his exploits during the Battle of Red Ring, where the Empire managed to take back the Imperial City on Cyrodiil and destroyed the Thalmor 1st Assault Army, and the Battle of Alinor, when he, then commanding as an Admiral, exploited a vital weakness in the Aldmeri lines and practically destroyed the Dominion Navy, ending the war on Imperial terms. His exploits were noticed by then-Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, and, after much deliberation, accepted a posting as a Fleet Admiral commanding the 23rd Naval Squadron, whose flagship was the _Praetor_-class Star Battlecruiser _Hand of Justice_. He led his fleet to victory numerous times during the Clone War, his fame as "The Judge" only eclipsed by that of the Skywalker-Kenobi team. He retired from his posting after the war was won, and he generously accepted the position that Antonius gave him, Governor of Secunda. It was a precarious position that, while granting him great power and access to the Elder Council, it also placed him in a bad position with Rebel leader Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, who viewed the Governor as "a traitor to all the free peoples of Skyrim". It did not matter to him, though. He always thought of Ulfric as an arrogant windbag that, while he was a capable strategist, he was often overconfident and was prone to making costly mistakes, particularly against his opponent General Maximus Tullius, Commander of the Imperial 4th Legion and an associate of Harkon's during the Great War. Currently, Harkon was residing in his palace in the city of Valstyge, an almost gothic looking city, with his palace having a grim appearance to it. He was in his private study at the time, a mini-library filled with every sort of subject and learning.

Including some forbidden subjects. Dark Subjects.

For few knew it at the time, save for his personal advisor, Garen Marethi, a Dunmeri male hailing from the volcanic-desert world of Morrowind, he was a Sith Lord. After the Great War, while he was home recuperating, Senator Palpatine visited his homeworld. It was here that Palpatine, secretly the Dark Lord Darth Sidious, discovered Harkon's Force sensitivity, and, knowing Harkon longed for power and war, took him as an apprentice, though not in an official capacity due to the fact that Count Dooku was officially Sidious' Sith apprentice, but he had aqquired a great deal of knowledge and power from the Sith. That is, until that cursed Jedi, Skywalker, slew them both, when Dooku was on his ship and when Palpatine was in his office. Harkon's expression turned into a scowl. It was because of Skywalker that he was forced into this meager postion as Governor of some backwater monarchy witch had little to do with the rest of the galaxy, save for its squabbles with the neighboring Alliance, which he viewed as little more than an annoyance, albeit a useful one. He smiled at the thought of manipulating its leaders into an open conflict with the Nirnians, lying to them both about the opposing side wanting it's neighbor's territory. He then turned his attention to the ancient Sith Holocron he was studying. Already it was providing him with valuable knowledge, imparting him with the learnings of the great Sith like Revan, Vitate, and Bane. The last lesson, however, intrigued him. It began as a story of a man from Alderaan known as Sorran, a powerful and intelligent Jedi Master, who stated that his ultimate goal in life was the pursuit of knowledge. His pursuit, however, became an obsession, and when he stumbled across an ancient wall with strange inscriptions, he began a dangerous quest, along with five Jedi Knights, to find the legendary Celestial Temple of Eron, judged to be no more than a myth, and rumored to contain the very secrets of the Force, including the path to immortality. Unfortunately, the five Knights were killed, and Sorran, fallen to the dark side, was presumed dead when his starship, _Pride of Intellect_, was destroyed in a battle over Yavin 4, which took place over forty-five hundred years ago. Harkon set the holocron down, a wicked grin spread across his features. The last thing it had imparted on him was a map of the galaxy, with Eron's exact location; it was in the Unknown Regions, on the Northwest tip. Getting up from his desk, he turned and exited out into the main hall, which consisted of a throne and two tables for dignitaries. Currently, only he and Garen were occupying the room. Garen bowed before his master and spoke. "Milord, what is it you desire."

"Prepare my shuttle, Garen. We are departing for the Unknown Regions."

Garen winced at that. "My Lord, may I inquire why you want to undertake this task."

"It is of great importance to my plans for the galaxy, which is all you need to know at the moment."

Garen, knowing not to inquire further, turned and hurried off to the hanger. Harkon then allowed himself to laugh, wickedly. His plans for the domination of Andromeda were going to come to fruitation. Relations between the Empire and the Alliance had deteriorated to the point of cold warfare, Ulfric was about to launch an all-out offensive on Skyrim, and, once he learned Eron's secrets and made sure the Empire and Alliance were out of the way, he would use his army, one that he found outside the galaxy, to wage war against the Galactic Republic, and establish his Galactic Imperium, with himself as ruler for all eternity…

* * *

Hey, its mesa again. I'd just like to take a moment to give credit to the creators of the Italian Star Wars Fan Film "Dark Resurrection". As for the Army he's talking about, let's just say most fans know of what group i speak. till next chapter.


	6. Thieves and Negotiators

Chapter 4: Thieves and Negotiators

Mal sat in his chair, looking at the assorted hive of scum and villainy assorted around him. The bar that he and Brynjolf chose to conduct their business in a cantina that was known as the _Ragged Flagon_, and was known on Skyrim to be the central hub of the Thieves' Guild, a criminal organization that got into bribery, extortion, smuggling, theft, and weapons trafficking, making it a rival of the Hutt Cartel, Zann Consortium, and Black Sun in this region of the Galaxy. In fact, they had a monopoly in both the Empire and the Alliance. _Quite the impressive feat, considering that they were a split hair away from extinction only a few years ago_, Mal thought to himself. The only reason that they had not fallen is because of their decision to form a triumvirate, consisting of Brynjolf, who handled the day to day affairs, Karliah, who was rumored to be the best sniper on this side of the Galaxy, and the most important member, Rhajar, a Khajit, who was ultimately responsible for making the major decisions of the three. They accomplished this only after they had found out that the last Guild Master, Mercer Frey, was stealing from the guild to enrich himself, and killed him, reversing the damage he had done. Soon, the Guild was able to take control of all criminal activity in Nirn Space, and extended its reach to the Alliance. Brynjolf then walked into the bar from the back entrance and took his seat from across Mal. Brynjolf, with his trader's grin, started the conversation. "Mal, how are you doing, lad? By you're being here I trust you want to take our deal?"

Mal smiled back "I assure you you've found the finest crew in the 'Verse, Brynjolf. Besides, your guys treated us better than Niska did." At that, both he and Jayne shuddered, as they remembered the torture Mal personally underwent at the hands of the mad crime lord. Brynjolf laughed. "Well, if you mean 'better' by _only_ getting a minor bullet wound when Jayne and you here decided to get into a scuff with Dirge and Mauler, then you're welcome lad." Mal again smiled, and then got down to business, "So, Brynjolf, what's the deal?"

"Well, lad, as fortune would have it, we have a weapons shipment for you to deliver, and not just the small arms kind I'm talking about. I'm talking about a few anti-fighter missiles and PLXs, the stuff that home defense forces need. We got a reliable client in the Inner Rim by the name of Raspuchi, decent fellow, but a bit tempermental, so watch what you say, and you'll be alright. He's already paid us for the weapons, now all that leaves, is how much you want from us."

Mal immediately opened up. "20,000."

"I run a business here, lad, not a loan shop."

"Last time I recall, loan shops were businesses, though bad ones at that. 13,550, then."

"Hmmmm…you know what lad, you got yourself a deal." The crime leader and smuggler shook hands, and, as Mal and Jayne turned to exit the bar, Brynjolf went into the back, where he met with the other two leaders, Karliah and Rhajar. "Well, he's agreed. We've already loaded up his shipment and he should arrive on Bihar Prime on schedule." Rhajar looked at him under his hood, and nodded slowly, before asking. "Did you inform him of his secret cargo?"

"Aye, no mate, I haven't. I've instructed Rarnis to tell him that he has some "extra" cargo that needs to be delivered to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant as soon as he's done with the delivery on Bihar, and that we will double his pay for his trouble." Rhajar let out a long sigh, and then smiled at both his long-time friends and associates. "Good, my friend. He may not know it yet, or the rest of the galaxy, but that cargo is vital to the Jedi." Brynjolf gave the Khajit an inquisitive look. "How is that, lad? As far as im concerned whatever that thing holds is of no use to even a bandit."

Rhajar just laughed, then turned serious again and told him. "Believe me, when the time comes the Jedi and the Republic are gonna want whatever's in that container."

All three exchanged looks, as both Brynjolf and Karliah pondered what was exactly in that mysterious container that they had given Mal, and just who did Rhajar pick it up from in the first place?

* * *

Just outside of Skyrim's orbit, a lone _Lambda_-class shuttle, manufactured by Sienar to replace the aging _Theta_-class, was on final approaches to what many considered to be the greatest of Skyrim's cities: Whiterun. As the pilot got the permission to land in the city he could see why many of Skyrim's human natives, Nords as they called themselves, admired the city. The city was set on a high hill in a vast plain, surrounded on all sides by incredibly high mountain ranges, highlands, hills, and other rugged terrain, making it easily defensible from a military standpoint. The city was arranged in three tiers, the first was the Plains residential district, which stretched out for a couple miles away from the base of the hill in every direction, surrounded by a twenty-foot high wall made of durasteel and duracrete, interspersed with turbolaser turrets every two hundred meters along the circumference of the wall. The second tier, the Wind, or market, district, sat practically on the gentle slopes of the hill. It featured the cities retail businesses, pubs, taverns, inns, and eateries, and the legendary mead hall of Jorvasker. On top of the hill was the Cloud district, the administrative district, dominated by the large palace known as Dragonsreach, named for a legend that a past king had trapped one of Skyrim's mystical dragons, known in legend as the Dovah, and built the palace to hold it. The young pilot took a moment to marvel at the city before he made his final approach, and spoke into the ships intercom. "Attention, Masters, this is Second Lieutenant Neelsen. We are landing in Whiterun Docking Bay 56, galactic standard time 13:15, Primeday, Unimum 24th, 1000 A.R.R." A voice answered back. "This is Jedi Master Kenobi, the team acknowledges." The shuttle landed in the square bay, and after making sure the hydraulic ramp was lowered, the team departed the shuttle. They soon made their way up through the Wind District, where they passed by a plaza with a shrine that consisted of a large statue of a man stepping on a serpent with a great sword pointing at it. At the shrine, there was a man in orange robes giving a sermon. "_Talos the mighty! Talos the unerring! Talos the unassailable! To you we give praise! We are but maggots, writhing in the filth of our own corruption! While you have ascended from the dung of mortality, and now walk among the stars! But you were once man! Aye! And as man, you said, "Let me show you the power of Talos Stormcrown, born of the North, where my breath is long winter. I breathe now, in royalty, and reshape this land which is mine. I do this for you, Red Legions, for I love you." Aye, love. Love! Even as man, great Talos cherished us. For he saw in us, in each of us, the future of Skyrim! The future of Tamriel! And there it is, friends! The ugly truth! We are the children of man! Talos is the true god of man! Ascended from flesh, to rule the realm of spirit! The very idea is inconceivable to our Elven overlords! Sharing the heavens with us? With man? Ha! They can barely tolerate our presence on earth! Today, they take away your faith. But what of tomorrow? Do the elves take your homes? Your businesses? Your children? Your very lives? And what does the Empire do? Nothing! Nay, worse than nothing! The Imperial machine enforces the will of the Thalmor! Against its own people! So rise up! Rise up, children of the Empire! Rise up, Stormcloaks! Embrace the word of mighty Talos, he who is both man and Divine! For we are the children of man! And we shall inherit both the heavens and the earth! And we, not the Elves or their toadies, will rule Skyrim! Forever! Terrible and powerful Talos! We, your unworthy servants, give praise! For only through your grace and benevolence may we truly reach enlightenment! And deserve our praise you do, for we are one! Ere you ascended and the Eight became Nine, you walked among us, great Talos, not as god, but as man! Trust in me, Whiterun! Trust in the words of Heimskr! For I am the chosen of Talos! I alone have been anointed by the Ninth to spread his holy word!_" As he preached this, the Jedi noticed a crowd that had gathered around, and that there were two groups of people that were starting to fight.

"Gray-Mane traitors!"

"Battle-Born tyrants!"

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin and shook his head. "It never ceases to amaze me, how fights can break out between two friends over something foolish." The younger master agreed with him. The fight that was breaking out between the two groups was soon broken up the yellow armored Whiterun Guard, which served as both a police force and a local militia. The group of Jedi was observing this when one of the citizens walked up to them, and he seemed friendly enough. "Well met, travelers. What brings you to Whiterun?"

Luke answered him in a friendly tone likewise. "Unfortunately, the War."

The man, Jon, nodded sadly. "Aye, a petty waste of time, this war. It's divided the two closest friends on Skyrim, the Grey-Manes and the Battle-Borns. We're so deeply ingrained by this conflict that we can't see the true threats, like the return of the Thalmor, or the Union waiting for an attempt to conquer us!" Obi-wan agreed with him. "That's why we're here, my friend. We've come to your fine city to ask your Jarl's permission to use this city as neutral ground to hold a peace treaty to end this conflict." Jon beamed at that. "Truly? Then you'd better head up to Dragonsreach, up the hill." Obi-wan bowed slightly. "We will, thank you, friend." Jon thumped his fist to his chest. "And to you." The team then started out again, ascending the staircase to the huge doors of the palace. The team entered the palace, and was greeted to an abnormally large hall, though not quite as large as some of the main halls in the Core. At the end of the hall was a throne about ten feet behind a fireplace, and on that throne was a man known as Balgruuf the Greater, reigning Jarl of Whiterun. He was currently slouched over in his chair, with his right hand almost resting on his chin. He looked up to address the Jedi. "So, the Jedi have come to this part of the galaxy, no doubt to negotiate an end to this blasted conflict?" Obi-wan nodded. "Yes, my Jarl, this civil war will have much more devastating consequences if it were allowed to continue." Balgruuf sighed. "I thought as much, but getting the two to agree to a truce won't be easy. The bitterness has run too deep. I trust you saw that fight out in the plaza?" They all nodded in the affirmative. "Aye, very well then, I'll send out messages to Tullius and Ulfric. Let's see if they actually…" At that moment, a man dressed in what looks like a messenger's uniform suddenly burst through the door, stopping just before the group, nearly out of breath. "My…Jarl…a message…from the front."

"Calm yourself, son. Now tell me what you need to tell me."

After a few more breaths the messenger spoke. "My Jarl, we've just received word that Jarl Ulfric has been captured at Darkwater Crossing, and now he's on his way to Helgen, presumably to await trial on Cyrodiil." At that everyone the room became excited. "Aye, messenger, your dismissed, have yourself an ale at the Bannered Mare, tell Hulda it's on me."

"Yes, my Jarl." At that, the young man hurried off, and Balgruuf turned his attention to the Jedi. "Well, I guess there won't have to be a treaty after all, my friends. Now, some of you wouldn't mind going to Helgen to observe the end of the war, so you can make your report to the High Council, hmm?"

Anakin spoke. "Actually, my Jarl, we would all like to go"

"So be it, I'll have a transport ready for you outside the gates."

With that, the group of Jedi turned and headed out of the door, toward the LV-81 hovercar that waited for them in the plaza, unaware they were about to witness events that would have an impact not just for this planet or this sector for that matter, but for the entire galaxy as well.


	7. Unbound

Chapter 5: Unbound

The LVT-155 hovercarts moved along the dirt road, their repulsorlift engines making a distinctive humming noise as they propelled the two open top transports, escort by two red-and-brown armored Imperial Legionaries on military speeder bikes. It was on the rear transport that one of the occupants, rather prisoners, woke up after being knocked out, and looked around. He could tell by the close proximity of the mountains on either side of him, as well as the mix of pine trees and beeches that the was in the Pale Pass, the mountain pass that connected the Rift to Falkreath Hold. He looked at the other prisoners in the cart. Some were wearing blue plastiod armor, the uniform of the Stormcloak Rebellion. One, like him, was dressed in rags. And the last in the cart looked like a noble, but he had a gag over his mouth. One of the blue armored men, with dirty blonde hair and steel blue eyes, looked at him and started up. "Hey you, you're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that _thief_ over there." At that the other man in rags looked and snarled at the rest of them. "Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along; The Empire was nice and lazy. Could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He then looked at the ragged prisoner. "You and me- we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." It was the blonde man's turn to snarl. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, _Thief_." At that, the Legionnaire driving the hovercraft became annoying and shouted in his clipped Cydroliic accent "Shut up back there!" the thief, however, paid him no heed, and looked at the noble with the gag. "What's wrong with him, huh?"

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the True High King!" Ralof warned him.

At that the theif's astonishment, and fea,r grew, "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the Rebellion! But if they've captured you…oh gods, where are they taking us?" he said as he started to panic. "I don't know, but Sovngarde awaits." The blonde man thought for a moment, then turned back to the horse thief. "Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why should you care?"

"A Nord's last thougts should be of home."

"Rorikstead. I'm…I'm from Rorikstead."

Acknowledging that answer, the blonde man truned and faced the road, which was now leading to what appeared to be a heavily militarized fortress-town. A gate guard looked at the convoy and called down down into the fortress. "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting."

A stoic voice called back. "Good, let's get this over with." The thief started to panic and pray. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh, Divines, please help me!"

The blonde soldier looked at a group of people and scowled. "Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this!" He paused from his rant, and spoke softly. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." At the inn, a little boy was sitting on the porch with his father. "Who are they, daddy. Where are they going?"

"You need to go inside the house, little cub." His father said sternly.

"Why? I wanna watch the soldiers!"

"Inside the house, now!" The father spoke, his voice raising with alarm, already knowing this is something that little ones should not see.

The boy sighed, "Yes, papa." As the child went inside, the carts grinded to a halt, cutting off their engines. The thief was worried. "Wait, why are we stopping?" The blue armored man looked at him. "Why do you think; end of the line." An Imperial officer, a tribune judging by the rank on her armor, ordered the soldiers to get the prisoners off the carts and in line. "Let's go. We shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us!" As they hopped of the cart, the thief lost it. "No! Wait! We're not rebels!"

"Face your death with some courage, thief!"

"This is a mistake! You've got to tell them, we weren't with you!" Everyone around him seemed to be oblivious to his plight, as the tribune barked orders. "Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time!" The blonde Nord hissed. "Empire loves their damned lists!" An Imperial soldier stepped up with a datapad, and began to call off names. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm" The blonde Stormcloak gave a final word to the Rebel leader, as he started toward the block. "It's been an honor, Jarl Ulfric." The soldier read off the next name. "Ralof, of Riverwood." The blonde man, Ralof, walked toward the block, exchanging a long look with the Imperial soldier. The Imperial looked at him, then continued with his list. "Lokir, of Rorikstead." The thief ran up. "No, Im not a rebel, you can't do this!" At that, he started to run in the direction the hovercarts had originally come from. The tribune cried out, "Halt!"

"You're not gonna kill me!" Lokir yelled back. But he was so very wrong about that, because at that moment, two of the troopers, which had been guarding one of the towers, raised their rifles, took aim, and shot Lokir just as he was reaching the gate. He was dead before he hit the ground. The tribune turned back to the prisoners, unimpressed. "Anyone else feel like running?" It was at that the other soldier with the datapad looked at the last prisoner, a little confused. "Wait you, step forward." The prisoner did as he was told. Both the tribune and the soldier looked him over and asked "Who are you?"

* * *

So far, the meeting between the Jedi and the General was going more or less splendidly than hoped for. On one hand, the general told them that, due to the Emperor wanting a quick and decisive end to the war, and the fact that courts on Cyrodiil tended to get bogged down in politics, there would no longer be a trial; instead there would be a summary execution, which would hopefully convince the rest of the Rebels that the fight was pointless and return home to their families (and the fact that both the Dominion and the Union were trying to prolong the war for their own ends). On the other, they had also been told that with the war over, the Jedi can leave the Empire to its affairs without needing to step in again. Tullius beckoned his guests and said. "Come, I think you should witness the end of the Skyrim Civil War." The General, the Jedi, and a mixed group of Federals and Thalmor walked to the block, where they noticed a man trying to run just as he was shot down by two of the guards. Luke shook his head. In his mind, and the minds of the other three Jedi with him, these men should have been given a fair trial. But he kept his complaints to himself and stood by his master and his father as Tullius walked up to the priestess.

* * *

"Who are you?" The soldier with the data pad asked. The prisoner looked at him dead in the eye and said. "Anslaf, of Ivarstead" The soldier looked and Anslaf sadly and told him, "You've picked a bad time to come home, kinsman." He turned to the tribune. "Tribune, he's not on the list, what should we do?" The tribune, however, was uncaring. "Forget the list, he goes to the block, same as the others." The young soldier was speechless for a moment, then sighed "By your orders, Tribune." He looked at Anslaf. "I'm so sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland, if it's any small comfort. Follow the tribune, prisoner." Anslaf, looking defeated, meekly followed the the woman to the line, where Ralof was waiting, along with the other prisoners, and a grim looking axeman. He then saw the General approach Ulfric, sneering, and said. "Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his King and usurp his throne." The Jarl tried to say something, but it was muffled due to the gag, though from what Anslaf could tell from the look in his eye it was nothing good about the General, who seemed to ignore it and continued. "_You_ started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!" At that, there was a distant roar, as if the mountains themselves could speak. Everyone looked around for the cause of that sound, and the soldier with the datapad, Hadvar, asked. "What was that?" The General looked at both him and the tribune, and dismissed it. "It's nothing, carry on." The tribune returned a salute. "Yes, General Tullius, sir!" She then turned to the priestess. "Give them their last rites." The priestess then raised her hand and began a prayer, "As we commend your souls to Atherius, blessings of the Eight Divines be upon you, for you are the salt-." At that one of the Stormcloaks marched forward and angrily demanded, "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" The priestess regarded him coldly, "As you wish." The prisoner then stepped to the block where he placed his head down, smiling. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" At that the executioner brought his heavy vibroaxe down, separating the man's head from his body, and into a basket. Immediately there were jeers and cheers from the crowd that had begun to gather. Ralof sighed. "As brave in death, as he was in life." The tribune pointed at Anslaf. "Next, the Nord in the rags!" The familiar roar returned, this time a little closer. Hadvar looked up, "There it is again, do you hear that." The tribune was now angered. "I said: Next. Prisoner!" Hadvar looked at Anslaf and sadly said. "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy." Anslaf marched to the block, now covered in fresh blood, and knelt down with assistance from the tribune, and looked up at his executioner who nodded and began to raise his axe.

That was when it happened.

A monstrous thing flew through the clouds, its body black as space, its eyes full of red hatred and contempt for all things mortal, roaring an almost ungodly sound.

"What in Oblivion is that!"

"Sentries, what do you see?"

"It's in the clouds!" A guard on the tower yelled out, right before he was crushed by the foot of the great beast as it landed, looking at the pitiful creatons that looked back at it in fear.

"By the Force, what is that thing?"

"DRAGON!"

At that scream of fear, the dragon opened its great maw, and roared, and almost immediately the sky turned a fiery red and began to shower flaming stones. The monster opened its mouth again, and shouted, and Anslaf thought he could make out words. "**FUS…RO DAH!**" He was knocked back to the ground, and struggled to get back up, when he spotted Ralof, who yelled at him "Come on, kinsman! The gods won't give us another chance!" Anslaf ran into one of the towers with Ralof, as Ulfric, now unbound and free of his gag, closed the door behind him. "Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing. Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked fearfully. Ulfric looked at him and simply said. "Legends don't burn down villages." He then looked at both of them and spoke forcefully. "We need to move, NOW!" Ralof pointed up, "Up through the tower, let's move!" As soon as Anslaf reached the second floor, a Stormcloak who was busy gathering supplies started to say something, but then was blasted back by rubble as the dragon smashed through the wall, and breathed fire into the opening "**YOL…TOOR SHUL!**", incinerating the poor soldier. Ralof and Anslaf looked at the inn. "You see that inn on the other side? Jump, and we'll catch up to you." Anslaf took a moment to gain his momentum, and cleared the gap with a mighty leap, landing in the inn. He then exited through a hole in the inn were he found the Imperial, Hadvar, along with an old man and the youth he saw earlier. "That's it Hamming, you're doing great. Gods, everyone get back." He yelled as the dragon landed on the road, shooing them to cover as the beast chomped an unfortunate legionnaire and sent him flying. Hadvar looked at Anslaf and said. "Still alive, prisoner? Stick with me if you want to keep that way! Gunjar, take care of the boy!"

"Gods guide you, Hadvar!" Hadvar and Anslaf ran, until they hit a stone wall, when Hadvar grabed Anslaf and threw them both against the wall, just as the dragon landed, incinerated a group of imperials, and left, as it spoke, "Zu'u Alduin. Zok sahrot do naan ko Lein!" Hadvar and Anslaf ran to the keep where a group of legionnaires were shooting at the beast, to no avail. "By Ysmir, nothing kills it!"

"Tell my wife I died for my people." A gravely wounded Nord called out.

"Hadvar," the General called out, "get into the keep, soldier, we are leaving!"

Hadvar started to follow the general and his entourage, among whom included four brown robed mages with lightsabers he guessed to be Jedi, but then he ran into a familiar blue-clad soldier, and scoffed.

"Ralof, you damned traitor, get out of my way!"

"We're leaving, Hadvar. And you're not stopping us this time!"

"Fine, I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

Both Ralof and Hadvar called for Anslaf to follow them, with him unsure of what to do. The dragon about to land behind him answered his question, and he darted after Ralof into the keep, to his destiny.

* * *

Yoda was in the war room in the Temple with Mace and Mundi, regarding the last report that Master Book had given them. "Hmm, troubling this is, for a dragon to appear in the galaxy. Not for forty generations, has this happened."

"We don't even know why this happened, or why it chose a small town on a world insignificant to galactic affairs." Mace said, weighing on the possibilities, though in the back of their minds they had a sickening suspicion of what this dragon was. At that moment, a Temple Vanguard, a specialized member of the Republic Army, interrupted the meeting. "Excuse me, sirs, but there is a _Firefly_-class transport docked at landing pad 94. They say they have a special delivery to make, for the Council only." Mace regarded the specialist, then said, "Thank you, trooper. Tell them that I and Master Yoda will see to it." The trooper saluted and turned out the door. Mundi looked at them and said, "This is getting stranger by the day."


	8. story break

BREAK

This is just a chapter to provide some answers to questions fans may have in regarding the continuity of the story. I'll try to explain in the best terms possible to man, mer, or alien.

Q: In an earlier chapter, it said that the AD (Aldmeri Dominion) was defeated at the Battle of Alinor, but later chapters still feature the AD as a puppet-master of the Empire. Why is this?

A: As stated in Chapter 3, yes, the Dominion did lose that battle, but after that, it was bolstered by the Union of Allied Planets. The Empire, not having the strength to fight both the Thalmor, who still had a sizable army, and fresh Federal troops, agreed to sign a peace treaty, aka the White-Gold Concordat, which stipulated that all parties would end hostilities, Hammerfell would become an Alliance planet (the Redguards fought them off, and became independent), and Talos worship would be declared illegal. So yes, the Empire technically did win, but it also did not.

Q: I thought that Harkon is the main villan, not Alduin.

A: Harkon is _one_ of the villans, but as I have it planned out, this story is to take place during the events of _Skyrim, Dawnguard, _and _Dragonborn_, 20 years after SW:EP3, and 2 after _Serenity_. I had to tweak the story of Sorran a bit, as you'll find out what he becomes in chapter 7.

Q: What are the moral and ethical alignments of the main characters

A: Here are some of the character alignments.

Nirnian Empire: Lawful Neutral.

Galactic Republic/Jedi Order: Lawful Good.

Sith: All Evil, they can swing on the ethical scale, though.

Thalmor: Lawful Evil.

Stormcloaks: Chaotic Good.

Harkon: Neutral Evil.

Alduin: Chaotic Evil.

Union of Allied Planets: Lawful Neutral.

Crew of the _Serenity_: Chaotic Good.

Thieves Guild: Chaotic Neutral

Sorran/? : Neutral Evil

Hermaeus Mora: Chaotic Neutral

Divines: Lawful Good

Paarthurnax: Neutral Good

Greybeards: True Neutral

Q: Dude, what the fuck is that smell?

A: Eggs and Cabbage. I had a breakfast burrito. Bite me.

Well I hope this answered some of your relevant, and not so relevant, questions. On with the story.


	9. Waking Dreams

Chapter 6: Waking Dreams

Harkon was, at best, disappointed with the planet Eron. He had been lead to believe from the stories that it was a lush, green world. Instead what he got was a harsh, rocky landmass surrounded by salty ocean, with the wreckage of a cruiser in the distance, and rusted armor and weapons all around, evidence of a great battle that had taken place eons ago. His shuttle came to land near what appeared to be a building of some sort, built onto the cliff edge, with its entrance pointing due west. After he instructed his lackeys to watch the shuttle and await his return, he set out toward the structure. The building itself was impressive, with a massive door and two large windows. A gargantuan dome adorned the pyramid-like structure, which was connected to the cliff by a stone bridge. Harkon walked up to the door, which was inscribed with some kind of writing: Here is the Temple of Eron, only those strong enough in the Force can open its door.

Harkon read the inscription using the knowledge gained from his holocron, and then, using a simple force lightning trick he picked up, unlocked the massive door, which opened up to show what was inside. He stepped in, and was beholden to a huge circular stone chamber, with shelves of datapads, arcane volumes, and books written in every language known to the galaxy. At the end of the room, there was a pedestal with a large black book on it. Behind it was a statue of what appeared to be some sort of cephalopod with pincers, and many eyes. All around the room were banners of the same creature, tentacles and pincers streached out. He began looking around the room, searching for what Sorran came for. He fillied through the books, not finding the answers he sought, not discovering the means to make himself Lord of the Galaxy. He was enraged, but at that moment the Force tugged at him. He turned from the nearest bookshelf and strode to the end of the room, where the black book was. He picked up the book, surprised that it was this light considering its size. He looked it over for a minute before opening it up to the title page: _Waking Dreams_. Almost immediately after that, the words became…alive, somehow. Runes jumped at him, transforming into oily green tentacles and grabbed him, pulling him into the book.

It seemed like almost an eternity before Harkon awoke. He managed to struggle to his feet, somehow, and shook his head to get rid of that groggy feeling that accompanies awakenings so often. After clearing his vision he surveyed the seen around him, and decided he almost didn't like it. Almost. The blue sky familiar with most worlds he saw was gone, replaced by a greenish sky. There were landmasses of varies sizes dotting the abysmal sea of dark acid, many with structures made of stone, or, often, books. Some of these structures were small insize, others, were absolutely enormous. He took a moment, and then began walking toward what looked like the biggest structure in the place: a massive, somewhat cone shaped structure, when he realized that there was no bridge to the building, separated for a couple miles by acidic water, or whatever that vile liquid was. Defeated, he began to grab a book on the ground, when he noticed several figures at the end of the platform. Knowing that he now needed help finding what he sought, he hurried over to where the group was, making out who just made up this particular group. The first two he noticed were some sort of octopi, with small arms and a seaweed cloak covering their backs. The next two were giant humanoids standing at nine and a half feet tall, colored a dark green color, and had some sort of head that resembled that of a deep sea predator. The one after that was what appeared to be a dragon, of song and legend, but unlike its cousins, it was a darkish grey-blue, with more serpentine features. The last one, however, was the one that caught his attention. The mysterious figure wore a purple robe line with gold, his gauntlets made from the scales of what appeared to be a dragon. On his shoulders sat two ornamental pieces that looked like dragons' heads. And his helm; the golden helm upon his head covered his entire face, its design was based upon that of the Dragon Priests of lore, but looked more kraken inspired. As the Sith Lord waked up to them, he could make out a conversation.

"The time comes soon when we can return to the galaxy…what?" The mystery man said as he turned around and blasted Harkon with the full power of the Force, sending the Governor reeling back a few yards. The figure then strode over to Harkon, now on his hands and knees, looking up at his assailant.

"Who are you to dare set foot here?" The figure in purple demanded before pausing. Harkon could tell by the smug satisfaction radiating from the masked man, he was smiling. "Ah, so you are a Sith Lord. I can feel it. Well met, it's been long since I've meet with one of my kind." Harkon got up, and smiled, bowing curtly. "Well, then, fellow Sith, let me introduce myself. I am Harkon Volkihar, Governor of Secunda, Lord of the Sith, and Overlord of Armies known not to the Galaxy. And you are?"

"I went by many names in life, but the one I am now known by, is Lord Miraak, Ruler of Solsthiem, Seeker of Secrets. But you may have heard of me by a different name in the Jedi's legends. Can you guess what it is?" Harkon thought long, he thought hard. Then, it hit him like a shield to a face. Of course, how couldn't he have seen it earlier; the books, the obsession for knowledge, and the strange writing in the temple. It was so simple.

Miraak…was…Sorran.

Harkon was almost speechless. "Lord Sorran? But you were killed above Yavin IV, slain by your fellow council member, Vahlok the Guardian!" Miraak laughed. "So everyone had been told, the truth is a bit more… bittersweet."

"Tell me everything, then."

Miraak sighed. "All right. Where to begin? It started when I was looking for the planet Eron, back in the ancient ages past. When I found that ship, floating above a lone planet, a voice spoke to me, promising me great knowledge and power, in return that the five accompanying me were silenced once they're usefulness was up. So I did. After the lead knight discovered the location of the temple, I activated the vessels security systems, and watched as they were cut down by organic drones with lightsabers, their skill in battle notwithstanding. I then took control of the vessel, landing it near the temple. When I read the black book, it brought me here, much like you, now, and it's here that I met _him_."

Harkon was confused. "Him, who?"

Miraak simply continued "Didn't your master teach you of patience? Anyway, it was from him that I learned that I was even more powerful than previously thought, and so, doing his bidding, I was sent back, taking control of the planet Solsthiem, gaining the allegiance of the dragons, and preparing for my war against the Jedi. Unfortunately, the Council caught wind of my plot, and sent an army of three hundred knights against me. While their army battled mine at the Moersing Pass planet side, I fled to a refuge I had built on Yavin, on my ship. Vahlok, though, had followed me. Our duel was spectacular, lasting for a full day on the planet, and just as he was to strike me down, I opened one of the black books, and ended up here again, where I have been stuck ever since, plotting my revenge on the Galaxy."

"So, you've been here for forty-five hundred years, since the end of the Dragon Wars. What does it have to do with me?"

"Because you are going to learn the secrets of immortality, that is, if you pledge to serve him, as i have."

Harkon was hesitant at first. He prefered not to become a servant to somebody, especially if he wanted to rule the Galaxy. But for eternal life...

"Yes."

"Good, my friend. I think it is time you've met our master."

With that, Miraak climbed on top of the serpentine dragon, beckoning Harkon to join him, which he did. They lifted off and flew over the green sea, toward the large cone structure, which turned out to be a temple of some sort. After the dragon landed on top of the temple, which was flat, Miraak and Harkon climbed off, and strode to the center, whice contained a pedastal and book similar to the one on Eron. Miraak walked up to the book, opened it, and then stepped back and genuflected, having Harkon do the same. Almost immediately, a grotesque mass of tentacles and eyes appeared in the sky above the book, grasping at nothing, yet everything. The eye in the middle, a huge green orb with black eyelids, looked at the two bowing before it before it spoke, in an deep, dark tone, as if a well could speak.

"Greetings, mortal. All seekers of knowledge come to my realm, sooner or later." For the first time in his life, Harkon could feel a slight twinge of fear for his soul. He asked, in a slightly shaky voice, "What are you?"

"I am Hermaeus Mora, Gardner of Men, Keeper of Secrets, and Knower of the Unknown; the Daedric Prince of Knowledge. What brings you to my realm, mortal?"

"I..I seek the knowledge of eternal life, so that i may finally rise up and conquer this galaxy."

"Mmmm, do you now? All knowledge has its price. Do you then, pledge yourself, to serve me, Sith?"

"Yes."

"Then behold the knowledge of immortality. I grant it to you, as i have granted it to Miraak here. Long may you two work my name upon the mortal realm."

With that, Hermaeus Mora disappeared, leaving only the two Sith. Miraak was the first to speak. "Come, my friend, it's time we returned to Eron. The galaxy will soon learn that the Sith have returned again."

Harkon agreed, smiling wickedly, "And this time, there will be nothing to stop us!"


	10. Before the Storm

Chapter 7: Before the Storm.

Anslaf and Ralof counted themselves lucky; they had managed to find a tunnel leading away from the keep, and away from the dragon. Now they were both armed with E-11 blaster rifles and short vibro-swords, and they now both wore the standard blue and brown armor of the rebels. They only got a few yards out of the entrance of the cave, when Ralof pulled Anslaf to the side, near a large boulder. "Wait!" They both ducked behind the boulder as the dragon flew overhead, roaring, towards the west. Ralof let out a deep sigh of relief. "Looks like it's gone for good this time. Come on, we better get moving. Riverwood, my hometown, is just a few miles down the road. Probably best if we split up." Anslaf shook his head. "I'm not abandoning you yet. Plus, I'm a little unfamiliar with the territory; I didn't leave the Rift much as a boy." Ralof shrugged, "Very well, then". A mile or so down the road, Ralof stopped. He pointed toward one of the mountains, which had several very tall stone archways carved from it. "You see that ruin, up on the mountainside? Bleak Falls Barrow. I could never understand why my sister wanted to live in the shadow of that foul place." He shrugged it off and they both kept walking down the road, another mile or so, when they encountered three large stones, arrayed in a perfect triangle, with different images painted on them. One had the carving of a heavily armored man with a war axe and a shield, another had a carving of a cloaked figure wielding a coin purse and a dagger, and the last had the figure of an elderly mage, staff outstretched.

"These are three of the thirteen Guardian Stones that dot Skyrim's landscape; one for each birthsign. Go ahead, see for yourself."

Ansalf walked up to one of the stones, the one with the warrior, and touched it. He immediately felt a rapid warming sensation, as the stone cackled to life and shot up a beam of green energy into the sky. Anslaf turned and saw Ralof smiling. "Ah, the warrior, good! Those stars will bring you honor and glory." They resumed their trek, with Ralof warning him that Whiterun Hold wasn't Stormcloak territory, and that he should do the talking. A quarter mile down the road, they encountered a small town by a river. Ralof beamed, "Riverwood! I'd knew we'd make it. My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill. We'll need to tell her about everything that's happened." As they walked up to the lumber mill, Anslaf caught wind of a conversation between an elderly mother and her son, about the dragon, which the son dismissed as nonsense. When they got to the mill, they meet Gerdur and her husband, Hod. Ralof proceeded to tell her of the amush at Darkwater, the Dragon, their escape, his belief that Ulfric survived, and that Anslaf should highly consider joining the rebellion. As Anslaf turned to go to Gerdur's house, for some food and rest, he was stopped by Gerdur. "There is one thing you can do for us, for all of us."

"Anything I can do to repay you."

"The Jarl needs to know about the dragon. Riverwood is defenseless. If you could send word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun, I would be most grateful."

"Will do, Gerdur. Thanks for everything."

"It's my pleasure."

Anslaf slept in their house that night. In the morning he gathered his things and set out on the road to Whiterun, opting to take a hovercar with the money provided for him. About a half hour of travel later he reached the massive walled city, after he helped out a group of local mercs, called the Companions of Jorvasskr, take care of a giant. He waked up to the city gate, where he was greeted by a yellow armored city guard.

"Halt. The city's closed with the dragon about. No one goes in or out." He said, in a gruff voice.

"Riverwood calls for the Jarl's aid." Anslaf replied, annoyed.

"Riverwood's in danger, too? You'll find the jarl up in Dragonsreach, on top of the hill."

"Thank you." Anslaf said as he entered the gate. On his way to the palace, he overheard a conversation between a weapons maker and another person, though he didn't register it important, and, after an hour or so walking through the city, he finally made his way up the hill, to the large doors of the palace. He took a deep breath, and opened the doors. He marveled at the spacious hall before him. Up ahead of him was the Jarl, presumably talking to his advisor, before he looked at him. At that moment, Balgruuf's bodyguard, a Dunmer female by the name of Irileth, approached the young male Nord, weapon ready.

"What's the meaning of this? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors!"

"I have news of Helgen, about the dragon attack."

"That explains why the guards let you in, then. Approach, but one false move, and you're dead."

Anslaf sarcastically nodded, then walked up to the Jarl. The Jarl turned from his advisor to address the new arrival.

"So my housecarl tells me that you were at Helgen. You saw this dragon with your own eyes?"

"That dragon destroyed Helgen, my Jarl. And last I saw it was heading in this direction."

The Jarl's normally leery eyes grew wide in fear. "By Ysmir, Irileth was right!" Balgruuf turned back to his steward. "What say you now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls and weapons, against a dragon?" Irileth walked back up to the throne, her face serious. "My Jarl, we should send troops out to Riverwood; it's in the most immediate danger."

Proventus, the Steward, interjected. "The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we'd be preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him!" Then, as an afterthought, "Maybe we should…"

"ENOUGH!" Balgruuf yelled. "I will not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment of troops to Riverwood at once." Irileth returned a sharp military salute. "Yes, my Jarl."

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties." Proventus stated.

"That would be best."

Balgruuf looked back at Anslaf, slight smile forming on his wearied features. "Well done, you've sought me out on your own initative, and done me a great deed. Here, take this as a token of my esteem." He handed Anslaf an intricate dagger, made from a black metal of some sort. "There is something you can do for me. Come; let's find Farengar, my court wizard."

Balgruuf got of his throne and started to trot to one of the side rooms, with Anslaf in tow. In the room they walked into there were maps, tables, laboratory equipment, and books of all kinds. In the middle of this ordered clutter was a man in simple purple robes, middle-aged and force-sensitive, though not to the degree of a Jedi. The Jarl was first to address him. "Farengar, I believe I've found someone to help you with your, er, special project." The mage looked at Anslaf, assessing, before he spoke. "So the Jarl thinks you may be of some help to me in my research of the Dragons. I do have a task for you, if you don't mind going into a tomb to retrieve it."

"Alright, what is it I'm fetching."

"Straight to the point, eh? I like that. I, ah, learned of a certain Dragonstone said to be located in Bleak Falls Barrow, south of here, right by Riverwood. All you need to do is delve into the tomb, retrieve it, and bring it to me. Simplicity itself."

"So, what makes you think that it's in Bleak Falls?" Farengar smiled. "Well, I have to preserve some professional secrets now, mustn't I?" Anslaf sighed. "Very well then, I'll return once I've got the stone." Anslaf headed out of the door, minding some advice the Jarl gave him before he left. He stoped by the weapons smithy to get his armor and vibro-sword traded in for a nice set of grey plast-steel armor, a sharp short vibro-sword, and a far better rifle, the A280. He headed out the gates, and torward Bleak Falls Barrow.


	11. Might of the Republic

Chapter 8: Might of the Republic.

It is said that since time began, there has always been a Republic of stars. That might have been an exaggeration, but there is no doubt in the mind of most of the people of the Andromeda Galaxy that the Galactic Republic is the most powerful nation in history. The long winding history of the Republic, dating an astonishing 25,000 years, is intertwined with that of the Jedi, their watchful protectors. They started from an ancient war between humans and Hutts, resulting in the Founding of the Core, and then expanded across the galaxy, by word, exploration, or sword. Like any great nation, the Republic has had its days in the sun, and dark days when the outcome was forlorn. The dark days of recent were testimony to the fact. In the official reports, Chancellor Palpatine, on the eve of victory over the Droid Army of the Confederacy, was killed by an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood, a fanatical cult of death-worshiping hired killers hailing from the Nirnian Empire, in retaliation for the deaths of General Grievious and Count Dooku, the leadership of the Confederacy. The Jedi and upper echelons of the government and military knew better, but chose to keep it a secret, lest morale plummeted and the Republic broke apart anyway. A great funeral was held for the supposed champion, the eulogy delivered by Jedi Masters Skywalker, Kenobi, and Yoda, as well as Senator Padme Amidala Skywalker, whose marriage to Anakin was announced days earlier. After the solemn mourning, there was celebration, for the CIS was defeated after Viceroy Nute Gunray and the Separatist Council surrendered to General Ahsoka Tano, after the final battle on Mustafar. The droid armies shut down and were dismantled, the planets of the CIS pardoned, in exchange that they swore to never again take up arms against the Senate, and the leadership arrested, tried, and sentenced for war crimes.

The victory also brought numerous changes to the Republic as well, more notably the government and the military. The Senate saw most of its executive powers stripped away, leaving it as a legislative body, while the office of Supreme Chancellor was separated from the Senate, making it a purely executive body. The executive now consisted of the Chancellor, Vice Chancellor, and the Cabinet, which consisted of the Departments of Defense, State, Treasury, Justice, Interior, Commerce, Agriculture, and Labor. The Senate was now headed by the Speaker, and all branches and offices of government, save the Judicial, now had term limits of two four year terms, with elections every four years across the Republic. For the military, there were changes in organization. The GAR, proud and effective, was disbanded; in its place were now the Republic Army, Republic Navy, and the Republic Clone Corps, made up almost entirely out of the former GAR, thus retaining their unit heritage and pride.

The Republic, seeking peace afterwards, fell back into its usual practice of cutting the military back. It was thus unprepared for the events to come. In 990 A.R.R, contact was lost with the Belkdan ExGal outpost. A team of Jedi was sent to investigate, and what they discovered shocked them to the core. A race of warlike aliens from outside the galaxy, calling themselves Yuuzhan Vong, had invaded the planet to secure a foothold into the galaxy. They had eschewed the mechanical in favor of the biological, and what was most shocking is that they had been cut off from the Force. They had come to, in their words, cleanse the galaxy of infidels. The Jedi, through luck, managed to escape the planet and inform the Republic, what followed was an event that went down in history as the Vong War. The Republic sent a small task force into the Dalonbian Sector to establish a base on Helska to deter any further Vong aggression; it did no such thing. The battle that followed was to become one of the most tragic, and heroic, last stands in galactic history, as the 187th Legion and the 34th Naval Squadron held out for 2 months on Helska 4, taking millions of the enemy down with them into Oblivion. The action brought precious time for the Republic, and the last stand became a rallying cry for the citizens of the Republic. The full might of the Galactic Republic would be brought to bear against the Vong, as recruitment went up tenfold, more clones were created, and the factories and shipyards went into overdrive. The war lasted for one year, before the Republic finally crushed their foe at the Battle of Sernpidal, when the living planet Zonama Sekot appeared, offering the two factions a different alternative then wholesale genocide of an entire race. The Vong, in relation to a prophecy that they would become peaceful when the child of the All-Father was discovered, threw down their arms, and agreed to the terms that they would live on Zonama peacefully and never seek battle again. The Republic was victorious, though the cost was high: hundreds of planets ravaged in the Tingle Arm, billions of soldiers and civilians dead, and millions of displaced refugees. But on a whole, the Republic had now managed to do the impossible; to recover the ancient splendor of its First Golden Age, mostly reunify the galaxy, and to establish the Republic Military as the largest, most powerful war machine that Andromeda had laid eyes on, a fact that was not lost on Admiral Arnold Harnir, a native of Skyrim known for his cool demeanor and his compelling nature. He was commissioned into the Republic Navy at the age of 20, not wanting to spend the rest of his days on a farm. He served faithfully during the Clone Wars as a V-wing flight lieutenant, one of the few none-clones to have the honor. Afterwards, he ascended in rank to the position of commander, and became second-in-command of the _Imperator_-class Star Destroyer _Venerable_. During a minor battle near Lilac Station during the Vong War, the bridge of the _Venerable_ was struck by a lucky shot from a Vong plasma cannon, killing the captain. Harnir immediately took control of the ship, and, using a maneuver taught by Grand Admiral Thrawn, destroyed the attacking _Miid-ro'ik_ cruiser. For his actions at Lilac Station, he was awarded the Cross of Glory. Now here he was ten years later, commanding the 12th Fleet, stationed at Davenport, from the fleet operations bridge of the _Revenge _-class heavy carrier _Relentless_. The 12th, along with most of the squadrons and fleets in the Navy, were the result of a paradigm shift during the Vong War to move focus away from heavily armored battlecruisers and dreadnaughts with no fighter complement as the flagships of the smaller fleets, to cruiser sized carriers capable of both boasting heavy guns and armor, while carrying several wings of fighters and bombers. Harnir, from the standard bridge transparisteel viewports that typically were featured in a Kuat designed ship, watched over his fleet. The fleet was composed of his 3.2-km long heavy carrier, 4 _Imperator_-class Star Destroyers, 6 _Victory_-class Star Destroyers, 5 _Venator _-class Star Destroyers, 8 _Acclamator_-class Star Frigates, a dozen _Lancer_-class corvettes, a few _Broadside_-class missle cruisers, a supply ship/fueler, an Interdictor ship that doubled as a communications vessel, and thousands of fighters, bombers, and gunships. The fleet also boasted the complement of having ten Legions, each having a total of 9,000 clone troopers, and can transport an extra six Divisions of Republic Army troops using _Star Galleon-_class transports. All in all, as Harnir observed, the fleet was indeed mighty, able to put the fear of the Republic into an enemy held sector.

And to consider that his fleet was only a tiny fraction of the Navy's power! The Republic Navy fielded thousands upon thousands of starships of various roles, and the pride and joy of the Navy was the _Executor_. The flagship of Grand Admiral Thrawn, the commander of the Navy, the Star Dreadnaught measured a staggering 19 kilometers in length, with enough firepower to glass an entire planet in under a quarter of an hour. All in all, the Republic was indeed mighty.

An unusually gruff voice called the admiral back from his observation.

"Sir, all X-Wings have returned from their patrols. Nothing else to report but the occasional asteroid and space dust." Harnir turned to face his subordinate, Captain Kangi Shai, one of the few Yuuzhan Vong who chose not to live on Sekot like most of his species. Typical of his race, he stood at a towering 6 and a quarter feet, a muscular body build standard of the warrior caste, and his forehead covered with the ritual tattoos of Domain Shai. Once a warrior during the Vong War, he served as a personal bodyguard for Warmaster Tsavong Lah, one of the greatest honors for a Yuuzhan Vong warrior. He had fought in numerous battles during the war, and was wounded at Sernpidal, the final battle of the war. After the battle, he contemplated suicide, in order to save himself the dishonor of surrender, but then made a decision to continue to live the life of the warrior, and in accordance with the will of Yun-Yammka, the God of War, and so joined his former enemies, the Republic, as they have proved themselves worthy of fighting. Harnir smiled at the fellow warrior. "As usual, nothing really happens any more than the occasional pirate raid."

"Well, sir, we could always go hunting for Omini, that filthy traitor." Shai said in contempt of the Vong that had manipulated the war and caused the billions of needless deaths of so many fine Vong warriors. The Nord shook his head. "We can't, neither the Defense Council nor the Senate has authorized a manhunt, and the Justice Department considers it a strictly 'judicial' affair."

"_Fas!_ We could do their 'job' more efficiently and cleanly! Bureaucratic scum!" Shai spat. He, like most warriors, absolutely loathed politicians and bureaucrats. Harnir sighed, "I know, old friend, but we're at peace, not war. We can't go about like we used to anymore." He thought for a moment, and then asked him, "What did you do before this?" Shai laughed, "I'm a Vong, sir. War's been in my very blood since I was crawling. What did you do?"

"We'll, being a Nord, we're not that much different from you're race, except that we also love to drink a lot more and eat. I was born on Skyrim, to a farming couple just outside of Rorikstead. I wasn't much for farming, and I didn't want to serve a weak-kneed Empire, so I left to join the Republic Navy. Even though most of my kinsmen would've preferred ground combat, I found engaging the enemy in combat in fighters to be much more honorable. Most of my compatriots during the Clone Wars were, well clones, but most of them had that same sense of honor, duty, and family that all Mandalorians seem to have." He paused for a moment, reflecting. "It seems, my friend, that most of the warriors and soldiers I've met in my travels, despite different upbringings and cultures, all share that same thing common to us: honor." Shai smiled at his superior. "Aye, sir, I've noticed this as well." Shai turned to leave, but before he could the senior deck officer flagged them down. "Sirs, we have an incoming priority message from Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi! Your eyes only!" Harnir nodded, and Shai turned to the third in command. "Commander Piett, you have the bridge." Piett saluted and Shai returned, and the Captain and Admiral turned and walked into the conference room.


	12. Dragon Rising

Chapter 9: Dragon Rising

Anslaf was grateful that the gods seemed to be watching out for him. In Bleak Falls Barrow, he had encountered all sorts of nasty surprises. These ranged from a group of ragtag pirates that were trying to get into the main chamber, to undead warriors that he had previously heard about in children's stories, to giant spiders and death traps. He fought especially hard against the most powerful of the undead, a draugr overlord, for control of the Dragonstone. But in the main chamber where both the undead warrior and the slab were housed, a peculiar thing happened before that fight. He had noticed a large, semi-circular wall with strange glyphs carved on it. As he got closer to it, he thought that he could make out chanting, coming from nowhere in particular. The chanting only got louder as he approached the wall, and one of the words started to glow. When he was close enough, energy poured directly from the word and into Anslaf, when he began hearing a single word over and over again in his head. "_Fus_" He had no idea what it meant, and soon after taking the Dragonstone, he left using a back exit, and came out on the other side of the mountain. He then began his long trek back to Whiterun, which was pretty uneventful in any case. Unlike the last time, the guard merely acknowledged the armored man as he passed through the gates, and headed up towards Dragonsreach. As soon as he entered the palace, and made his way to the palace lab, he saw Farengar conversing with a figure in light fitting armor and a cowl to obscure the person's face

"So you see the terminology clearly dates back to the First Era or earlier. I'm convinced though that this is a copy of a much older text, perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War."

"Good, I'm glad to see you're making progress; my employers are seeking some tangible answers. But don't forget, this isn't some theoretical question, dragons have returned."

"Well, you're in luck then; the Jarl himself has finally taken an interest in my research. Now if I..."

"You have a visitor."

"What?" Farengar cried up, a little startled since his Force perception did not pick up Anslaf entering the room, which he greeted with excitement. "Ah, the Jarl's protégée! You're back from Bleak Falls Barrow; you didn't die it seems." Anslaf handed the Dragonstone over to Farengar. "Ah, the Dragonstone; seems you're a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way."

"So, what happens now?" Anslaf asked.

"The work of the mind; sadly undervalued here on Skyrim. My _associate _here would like to see your handiwork. She discovered its location by means she has so far declined to share with me." Farengar turned to the woman. "So it turns out your information was correct after all, and we have our friend here to thank for it."

The hooded woman regarded him. "You went into the barrow and got that? Nice work!" She turned to Farengar. "Just send me a copy when you're done deciphering it." At that very moment, a worried looking Irileth ran into the room. "Farengar, you need to come at once! A dragon has been sighted nearby." She looked at Anslaf, "You should come too." Farengar was excited. "A dragon? How exciting, what was it last doing?" Irileth was more serious, however. "I'd take this a bit more seriously if I were you. If a dragon decides to attack the city, I don't know if we can stop it." The group ran up the stairs into the war room, where Balgruuf was waiting with a beaten looking guard.

"So, Irileth tells me that you came from the western watchtower?"

"Yes, my lord."

Irileth spoke up. "Tell him what you told me, about the dragon."

The guard started up. "That's right. It was fast, faster than anything I've ever seen, even faster than some of those Republic fighters. I've never ran so fast in my life."

The Jarl regarded him kindly. "Good work, son. We'll take it from here, head down to the barracks for some food and rest." The guard saluted and walked out the door, as Irileth turned to the Jarl.

"I've ordered some of my best men to muster near the main gate."

"Good, don't fail me." As Irileth walked out, the Jarl turned to Anslaf. "There's no time to stand on ceremony my friend; I need you to help Irileth in fighting this dragon. You survived Helgen, so that makes you more experienced in this matter that anyone else here. But I haven't forgotten the service you've done for me, so here is a shield from my personal armory." He motioned to a guard, who brough Anslaf a grey round shield, looking like it was made from _beskar_ iron, a rare item outside of Mandalore. He thanked the Jarl, slung the shield on his back, and ran out. After a good twenty minutes of running he meet Irileth near the main gate, who was giving a motivational speech to her men, then set out with her. They ran outside the gate, and about thirty or so minutes later, they saw the watchtower; the duracrete structure was on fire and damaged in several places. Irileth surveyed the damage wrought.

"No sign of the dragon, but it sure looks like he's been here. I know it looks bad, but we've got to find out if anyone made it out, and if that dragon is still hanging around." She drew her rifle. "Spread out and look for survivors." The group moved cautiously, turning over stones to find a burned corpse, when a lone, badly battered guard came out of the tower. "Get back! It's still here somewhere, Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it." As if the beast could hear him, a roar came from the mountainside, followed by a familiar shape flying down from one of the mountains. The guard was losing his composure. "Kynareth save us, here he comes again!" Irileth was more responsive. "Find cover, and make every shot count." At that moment, the dragon swooped down on them, breathing fire. The guards and Anslaf responded with blaster fire, as the watchtowers klaxons sounded off. The dragon caught one with his claws, and sent him flying into the building, where he landed with a sickening thud.

"I can't get a bead on him!"

"Bring it down, bring it down!"

"Die, foul worm!"

Anslaf fired his A280 in controlled bursts, and one of his shots found its mark. The superheated pack of particles hit the dragon square in the eye, which made it cry out in pain as it landed, right next to him. He was thrown down by the force of the landing; his rifle flung five meters away. Realizing that he couldn't reach it in time, Anslaf drew his vibrosword and unslung the beskar shield from his back, getting in a battle ready stance the way his former soldier father taught him too. The dragon, recovered from the landing, looked at him and made a sound that sounded like laughter, and then it spoke. "You are brave. _Balaan hokoron_. Your defeat will bring me great honor!" Anslaf charged at the dragon, shield rose, blocking the dragon's fire breath attack. The dragon tried to bite him, to crush him in its jaws. But Anslaf blocked and brought his sword down on the dragon's head, where it did nothing against the hardened scales. The dragon, now angered, tried to bite Anslaf from slightly over head. Anslaf slashed at the dragon in response, and when it reeled back, he jumped on top of its head. The dragon turned its head, thrashing and bucking, trying to get the man of off its head. Anslaf held on for dear life with one hand, and with the other, mercilessly slashed at the dragon's face. He then changed the angle of the blade, and thrust it into his opponent's eye socket, and into his brain. As he jumped off of the dragon, the beast screamed in terror. "Dovahkiin! NOOO!" The dragon reared up its head one last time, then fell, silent, mouth agape, a testimony to the way he died. Anslaf breathed in a sigh of relief, as Irileth ran up to congratulate him. "Nice work there. You make a fine warrior… wait, what's happening?" She pointed at the dragon as Anslaf looked, and to his shock the dragon was beginning to burn away. The flame was growing brighter, and a translucent energy, not unlike that he'd encountered at the word wall in Bleak Falls, flowed into him, as a voice spoke. "Well done mighty Dovah! I am Mirmulnir. I will now teach you of the power that you hold within!" Anslaf pondered this as the flames were beginning to die down, but now he had something burning within him, as the meaning of the word he discovered finally dawned on him.

Force, unrelenting Force.

One of the guards was in awe. "The legends, they're true! I can't believe it, you're…"

Anslaf looked at him, equally in awe. "I'm what exactly?"

"Dragonborn!"

* * *

All across the galaxy, beings who could call upon the Force from Coruscant to Ossus felt the greatest shift in the Force since the defeat of the Dark Lord.

On Coruscant, Grand Master Yoda and Master Windu were meditating when they felt the shift.

On the _Relentless_, the team of Jedi sent to Skyrim felt it while they were discussing matters with the admiral

On Eron, the two shadowy Sith Lords felt it when they left on the shuttle.

And on Skyrim's highest mountain, a group of four aging grey-robed monks felt it as they meditated on the sky. One of the monks rose and spoke to his counterparts.

"He has been revealed."

* * *

"Dragonborn? What does that mean?" Anslaf asked the guard, not sure what to make out of it.

"In the ancient tales, back from when there were still dragons in the galaxy, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their powers. That's what you did, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure what happened."

"Try to shout, it would prove it."

Anslaf was unsure of what that meant, but then he remembered the word, and if he shouted that word…

"**FUS!**"

When he shouted, the air in front of him seemed to ripple, as a blue ring formed and died down almost as quickly as it had emerged, kicking up dirt and staggering the guard a few feet back.

"He summons the _Thu'um_!" One guard yelled excitedly as the group ran up.

"Dragonborn?" asked one of the guards skeptically.

"Yeah, just like in the old stories our fathers used to tell us as children; about men like old' Tiber Septim himself!" the first guard proudly exclaimed to his friend.

The second guard merely dismissed this. "Never heard of Tiber Septim killing' any dragons!"

Now the first guard took offense to this. "There weren't any dragons back then, idiot! There just now coming back for the first time since…forever!" One of the guards turned to Irileth, who was silent the whole time. "What do you say, Irileth? Do you believe in any of this?"

"Yeah, come on, tell us."

Irileth grunted. "Hmph. Some of you are better of keeping your mouths shut then flapping your gums on matters you don't know anything about." She looked down at the dragon's skull. "Here's a dead dragon; that's something I can definitely understand. But I don't need some mythical 'dragonborn'. Someone who can kill a dragon is more than enough for me." One of the guards piped up. "You wouldn't understand, houscarl, you ain't a Nord." Irileth was offended. "I've been all across the galaxy, and I've seen plenty of outlandish things. I'd advise you all trust in the strength of your aim over tales and legends." She looked directly at Anslaf. "You better report this to the Jarl. He'd like to know that the dragon's been dealt with. And that we need to inform the family of the single causality, since the towers comm systems were knocked out." Anslaf nodded, and started to walk the direction of Whiterun.

The four grey robed monks now stood in the courtyard of their mountain monastery, preparing to utter the words that have not been uttered since the coming of Talos Stormcrown. The villages and farms around the mountain have been evacuated around the mountain, as it is well known that the words that they will utter carry the very weight of the Force. The lead monk looked at his compatriots and spoke. "It is time." With that, they turned to face the direction of the Great Plains, and, drawing in a deep breath, shouted.

"DOV-AH-KIIN!"

* * *

Anslaf had just entered the city gates, in the early evening, when he heard the call, accompanied by a thunderclap and a slight tremor. Everyone around him started to murmur.

"The Greybeards are calling!"

"They summon the Dovahkiin."

"The Dragonborn comes!"

Anslaf ignored this and made his way towards Dragonsreach. When he entered the palace, he found the Jarl on his throne conversing with his brother, Hrongar, and Proventus. He walked up the the Jarl. Both Proventus and Hrongar started to say something, but the Jarl raised his hand for them to be silent.

"So what happened at the watchtower? Was the dragon there?"

"The dragon destroyed the tower, but we managed to defeat it."

The Jarl beamed up. "I knew I could count on you two. But there must be more to it than that."

Anslaf shifted one foot. "Well, my Jarl, it turns out that I may be something called 'Dragonborn'."

Balgruuf now leaned forward. "Dragonborn? What do _you_ know about the Dragonborn."

"When the wyrm died, I absorbed some kind of power from it, and the men called me 'Dragonborn'."

The Jarl was astonished. "So it is true! The Greybeards really were summoning you!"

"Why me?" Anslaf asked, already knowing the answer.

"They must have felt it when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in it, and the Force carried it to them." The jarl then reminisced on old times. "I envy you, you know, to climb the Seven Thousand steps. I made the pilgrimage once myself, you know. I often wonder if they even pay attention to all the suffering that goes on down here." He sighed. "No matter. You better get up to High Hrothgar. There's no refusing a summoning by the Greybeards." As Anslaf nodded and turned to leave, Balgruuf stopped him. "You've done me a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane Anslaf of Whiterun. You are now permitted to purchase the best house in the city, as well as keep the guards of your back. I also will assign you Lydia, your own housecarl. And, as the Dragonborn, you are also permitted something special."

"Oh?"

The Jarl continued. "The equipment you have is useful, for a common soldier or commando. But for someone with your powers, you need better equipment. Here, walk with me." He walked with the Jarl, up the stairs, through the war room, and into his private quarters. They both walked over to a closet close by the Jarl's bed. Balgruuf unlocked the closet and beckoned Anslaf inside. Anslaf walked into the large closet, and opened his mouth in abject surprise. On a mannequin was a full dressed suit of the best metal armor on this side of the cosmos; ebony armor, but this ebony armor, however, wasn't in the standard black with silver trim; it was mainly white with silver trim and a black visor. The weapon in front of the mannequin on a pedestal encased in glass is what really got his attention. To the unassuming fool, it was nothing more than a white cylinder, made of the same refined ebony, with a black ebony ring enclosing the top of the device, a black pommel, black grip on the bottom half of the cylinder, and a few buttons at the top. But many knew what it actually was: a lightsaber, the weapon of the Jedi Order, and the Sith. Jarl Balgruuf spoke while Anslaf was marveling over the gift. "The armor and lightsaber once belonged to the Guardian of Solstheim, Jedi Master Vahlok. His gear was passed down by his desendants, my line, until we found someone worthy of it. Who better to wield them than the Dragonborn?" Anslaf took a moment to recover. "I...I don't know where to begin, my Jarl." Balgruuf smiled. "You can start by giving me back that gear and putting Vahlok's on." Anslaf, hesitant at first, complied, and asked the Jarl if he could stay out of the room for a few seconds. Balgruuf obliged him, and after a few moments of changing out of his old equipment and putting the new things on. He stepped outside for Balgruuf to see.

"It's a perfect fit, almost as if it were made for me."

Balgruuf laughed in good nature. "Perhaps they knew that you'd come along. Now why don't you give that saber a few swings?" Anslaf unclipped the lightsaber from the clip on left side of his waist, and, making sure that the Jarl was out of range, found the power button and pressed it. The saber sprung to life, the blade colored a brilliant blue, the color of the guardians. He swung it around a few times with his right hand, then deactivated it and returned it to the clip.

"Im ready to make the journey to High Hrothgar."

Balgruuf nodded, and lead him back out to the main hall. Anslaf, now armored in white ebony, and armed with a white ebony shield and the lightsaber, spoke to his new housecarl, a twenty one year old female named Lydia, and the two left the palace; their destination: a monastery known as High Hrothgar on Skyrim's largest mountain, known as the Throat of the World.


	13. The Way of the Voice

Chapter 10: The Way of the Voice

Anakin Skywalker, along with the other Jedi with him, was troubled to say the least. They had made it back to the _Relentless_ and begun to debrief Admiral Harnir and Captain Shai, when they had felt a great disturbance in the Force. It had only carried one message: _He is here_. They were confused by this, and then were even more puzzled when Mace Windu contacted them and ordered them back to Coruscant effective immediately, as this was a matter that the Council all needed to attend to. The admiral let them have a shuttle, and soon enough they left the _Relentless_, and made the jump into hyperspace to Coruscant. On the shuttle, they all contemplated what had happened.

"I don't like it, any of it." Anakin said as he looked at Obi-Wan and his son. Derriah picked up.

"First, there was that dragon. Then, we felt a disturbance in the Force, and now the Council wants us to convene as soon as we get to the Jedi Temple. I have a bad feeling about this."

The four Jedi nodded in agreement, and spent the next few hours in silence. After three hours in hyperspace, the shuttle exited into real space, and approached Coruscant. The craft then landed on one of the docking pads attached to the temple, and the three masters soon made their way up to the High Council Chambers. When they arrived, they were greeted by Master Windu, who beckoned them to take a seat. After they sat down, Master Yoda began. "Members of the Council, gathered here we are, to discuss a grave threat." Everyone looked around, before Yoda continued. "Darkness gathers in the Outer Rim, I fear. A greater threat than that of Sidious, I fear this is, for destroy all life in the universe, it has the power to." Obi-Wan spoke up. "Forgive me, master, but what threat could be greater than that of the Sith?" It was Windu's turn to speak. "We have consulted Master Nu in the Archives, to study what your negotiation team found in Helgen. What we found greatly disturbed us; the dragon you've encountered, is an ancient demigod named: Alduin, the World-Eater, a being so powerful that he was said to be created for the sole purpose of destroying this realm." This greatly shook every member of the Council present, including Anakin, who spoke as calmly as he could. "I sensed the dark side in this Alduin when we encountered him; it was a fiery, raging hatred, unlike the cold emptiness I sensed in Palpatine. But that doesn't explain the disturbance in the Force we've all felt." Windu responded. "The disturbance we felt may be the result of a culmination of a prophecy dealing with his return, that Alduin will be confronted by the 'Last Dragonborn', described in the lore of the Nords as a Force-sensitive born with the soul of a dragon." He paused before continuing. "We believe that the shift in the Force that we've felt was this 'Dragonborn'." The Council started to murmur amongst themselves, before Plo Koon spoke up. "If what you say is true, Mace, then this person is going to need training in the ways of the Force."

"Hmm. To train as a Jedi, you suggest for them?" Yoda asked.

Plo shook his head. "No Master. I feel that the path the Force has set for them will not be that of a Jedi, but I do not think that this path will lead him, or her, into darkness, either." Everyone in the room considered this, until Obi-Wan spoke. "We can't be sure of that. Many great men, Jedi included, have fallen into darkness. Anakin himself almost fell." Everyone winced at that, as they feared what would of happened if the Chosen One had joined Sidious.

Thank the Force he did not.

Mace again spoke. "One last thing. Approximately two standard days ago we received cargo from one Malcom Reynolds, captain of the _Serenity_. We believe that this cargo will be of upmost importance to this 'Dragonborn'." Anakin, who was interested before, now became clearly attuned to what Mace had to say, or present, next. Mace then pushed a button on his chair, and a moment later two Temple Vanguards entered with a large cylindrical container, ornate and marked with the seal of a dragon. Windu nodded at the two troopers, who then opened the container by pressing a round button on the dragon's chest, and the container began to open. The container split four ways, revealing the contents of the mysterious container inside. When it was opened, the room fell dead quiet, so quiet one could hear a pin drop. No one could've expected this, but the Force told them that these were the tools that they needed to help this Dragonborn, though it was rather vague on why. In front of them, where the container opened, were three, golden, ornate cylinders with a handle attached to both ends on each of them, with the Force practically vibrating off of them.

They were fragments of creation, able to exist and not exist at the same time.

They had the power to bend reality, to unmake it.

They were…the Elder Scrolls.

* * *

Alduin flew to his ancient fane, the legendary mountain-fortress, Skuldafn, to meet with the few hundred of his remaining loyal number, his mind stirring with the anger and hatred of the mortals. His hatred was not without cause, however. When the Gods, or the Celestials, as the Divines and Princes were called by the more common part of the Galaxy, left the mortal plane, Mundus, to preside over their own realms and the Force, the chief of the gods, Akatosh, the Time Dragon, created the dragons, and tasked them with the stewardship of the galaxy, to preserve life and keep the balance. Alduin, the first born, was made _Thuri_ over the Dragons, while his younger brother served as his second in command. For thousands upon thousands of mortal years, he ruled over the galaxy as king. Some, like his brother, had thought he had become too arrogant in his power, but he knew better. He knew that mortals by nature were barbarians, and that power equaled truth. And, since Dovah had immense power in the Force, they must then know the absolute truth. And so his rule became more iron like over the centuries. This continually angered the mortals, until their anger and hatred coalesced into fury. Thus began the Dragon War. At first, his servants in the Rakatan Infinite Empire, and his loyal force of thousands of Dragons, scored victory upon victory, ravaging countless worlds and slaughtering trillions of mortals. Then, out of an apparent change of heart, his own brother began to actually _pity_ the vile trash, and joined them along with a few dozen other traitorous dragons, and began to teach them how to master their own unique way of using the Force; the Thu'um, _Shout_. He did not know how the mortals gained the ability to Shout as Dragons do in the first place; he thought it to be his mother, Kynareth, who always pitied mortals and favored them over here own sons. It mattered little, now. After the mortals gained the ability to Shout, the tide began to turn. The Ratakans were overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the Tongues, mortal masters of the Thu'um, and broken by slave rebellion and plague, effectively wiping them off the face of the Galaxy, and the Dragons and Nords, the best of the mortal races at that time, fought one last, decisive battle for control of the Galaxy, the Battle of the Monahven. On top of Skyrim's highest peak, the three Tongues faced Alduin in battle, and when they couldn't bring him down, even with that foul concoction of theirs, they instead chose the most cowardly things to do, in his eyes; cast him adrift on the currents of Time, using an Elder Scroll. For Alduin, it felt like a year, but during that time, he witnessed the events that unfolded after his overthrow. And what he saw enraged him further. He saw the formation of mortal governments, where greedy mortals got together and breed corruption. He saw mortals wage war upon war with each other, destroying the very land he was tasked to protect, the worst of these wars were always fought between two holier-than-thou religious orders, whose viewpoints were so different yet their zeal so similar Alduin almost had to laugh. He saw mortals exploiting the land for profit. He saw them murder each other over a petty coin. But worse of all, some of them actually had the gall to defy one of Akatosh's actions, to refuse to bow down to a man he made a god for his valor and justice, all because he wasn't "one of our blood." To say this made him downright furious was a gross understatement, for what right did mortals have to question the will of the Gods? At first, he thought he could re-enslave the mortals, but he now realized that the world of mortals would have to be destroyed utterly; cleansed from the universe they tarnished with their greed.

He landed on top of Skuldafn Temple, where the temple's caretaker, Nahkriin, and Alduin's newest second lieutenant, Odahviing, greeted him.

"_Thur, Alduin! Niid bein brunikke fen evanaar sahrot kongrah!_"Nahkriin stated in a triumphant tone, as one would say when waiting for a long lost savior

"Greetings, my loyal servants, my _zeymah_. Your patience and loyalty is well rewarded, as you will all join me in this glorious cleansing of Mundus; to finally achieve the peace that the universe needs, a world without mortals. A world once again claimed by the Dovah." All around him, the lesser dragons roared their approval, their massacre at the hands of the Akaviri Blades a grievous wound that would be redressed in kind. It was at that moment one Alduin noticed something.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, brothers, but several of our surviving number seem to be missing from this meeting. Any one of you care to explain?" At that, several of the dragons looked downward, not sure of what to say. After a few moments of a rather awkward silence, Odahviing stepped forward

"Forgive me, _Thuri_, but it is only one that could not come: your most loyal servant, Mirmulnir."

Alduin was slightly surprised; Mirmulnir was one of his best soldiers in the Dragon War, singlehandedly annihilating entire mortal battalions, and a very capable survivalist if he avoided detection all these years.

He then asked, in a lower voice, "What happened to him?"

He was not prepared for what his lieutenant had to say next.

"He was slain, by the Dovahkiin." At this an eerie quiet fell over every dragon present, as Alduin processed the information that had just been told to him. Here was the very being that could permanently end a Dovah's life by devouring its soul, and in the process becoming more powerful. Not to mention the fact that there was a prophecy concerning the both his own and the Dragonborn's return, which stated that they would do battle in the end, though it left the outcome in doubt. He then realized something; he had come face to face with the Dovahkiin at Helgen, during his attack on the city. He remembered that there were several significant Force signatures there; four paragons of the light, one he recognized as the Jedi Chosen One, a pseudo-Tongue who had only mastered the basics of a Thu'um, and several dark spots. But the one that stood out above the rest was a prisoner who was going to be executed, a signature so powerful that it was almost on par with that of the Chosen One's. Alduin cursed to himself silently. If he had waited five more seconds instead of rushing in to strike terror into the mortals' hearts, then his only threat would've been eliminated. After several minutes of silent contemplation, the Lord of Dragons finally spoke. "Has this 'Dovahkiin' received any training, any aid to become more powerful?"

"_Niid, thuri_. Mirmulnir is so far the only one who has fallen to his Voice." Odaviing stated.

When he said this, Alduin mused. "Then there may be some hope left for our mission." His gaze then turned cold, and he spoke in his most authoritative manner. "Send word to all our forces: waylay this 'Dragonborn' by any means necessary. He must _not_ receive any sort of training in the Force, or learn any more of the Rotmulaag." Odaviing nodded, and flew off to spread the word, and to track this Dovahkiin's process. Soon after, the rest of the _Dovahhe_ took off, leaving Alduin alone on the temple roof, along with Nahkriin, and looked toward the large stone circle that was cut into the center.

"Priest, open the portal. I must make sure to great my old friend."

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

Anslaf and Lydia's journey northward was so far going along without a hitch. The journey to take the northern route was Lydia's idea, since she had the better lay of the land west of the Throat of the World, not to mention the fact that before all this Anslaf was, by and large, a simple farm boy who had helped support his mother and his younger brother on their small farm near Ivarstead, and that he never ventured past the borders of the Rift until he left his farm to head to Falkreath to get a job at one of the lumber mills there. He had elected back then to take the southern route around the mountain, since it was shorter than the northern route, only taking a day or two compared to four for the north.

That's when he got caught up in that ambush.

Since then he has learned to be more careful, to listen to others before acting. Which is why he had elected to take Lydia's advice. By then it was late in the evening on the second day of the trek, and they needed to find a shelter, for there was a storm blowing in from the ocean that almost entirely covered Skyrim's northern polar and sub-polar regions. And these storms could turn particularly nasty depending on the season. About a mile down the road they ran into what seemed to be good fortune; two towers, connected by a narrow stone bridge over the river. These were the famous Valthiem Towers, named after Jarl Valthiem of Dawnstar.

"Alright, we'll make camp there for the night." Anslaf stated, though he was starting to get a creeping feeling the closer they approached, like there were already occupants in the seemingly abandoned tower. When they got to the towers, the pit that had been forming in the pit of their stomachs had now given way to grim realization. Sitting near the entrance next to a small campfire was a female bandit, wearing a mix-match of clothes and animal furs, and wielding an outdated E-5 blaster rifle. The bandit looked up at them, and gave the most predatory grin Anslaf ever saw. The woman approached them, arrogance gracing her every step, until she was close enough that they saw the woman's yellow teeth. They tried really hard to not say anything about the stench. The bandit looked them up and down with a hungry eye, and spoke, toyingly. "Alright, now this is a toll road, ya see. Normally I'd charge, say, two hundred to use this road, but I'll cut you a deal. Give me that nice shiny armor ya got on their, and yer weapons, and you can be on your merry way." Anslaf and Lydia just looked at her, then at each other, then back at the smelly bandit. Anslaf then shrugged. "Well, the way we see it, my good ma'am, you're hopelessly outgunned and outclassed. So how about this?" Anslaf moved his hand to the lightsaber hanging at his belt. "Let us be on our way, and it won't get messy." This just seemed to piss off the bandit, who aimed, rather horribly, at Lydia. "Ha! Tough talk for two people bout to get-." She never finished her sentence, as Lydia shot her in the forehead with one of her customized DL-44 heavy pistols in a lightning quick motion, leaving a smoking crater in the now dead bandit's forehead. Anslaf turned and looked at Lydia, his shocked expression unreadable behind his mask. Lydia simply shrugged it off. "Her stench was annoying me, my Thane." Before Anslaf could come up with a response, blaster fire began to pepper the ground around them. Anslaf activated his lightsaber and cut down the fragil wooden door, Lydia following close behind him. One bandit running down the stairs tried to take him out, and was promptly bisected by the azure blade. When they made it to the bridge, they could now see where all the fire was coming from. Three bandits with sniper rifles covered the entrance to the towers, two stationed at the top of each tower, with the third on an overhang on the adjacent cliff side. There were three bandits on the bridge as well, now walking towards them. The first two looked about the same as the others, in a mix match of clothes and wielding antique weapons. The third, however, stood out. He was wearing gunmetal grey plasteel armor, armed with an EE-3 carbine and a rather large vibro-axe. He looked at the duo up and down, and, fingering the safety on his weapon, spoke, in a calm and cold demeanor that immediately told Anslaf that he must be the chief of this rabble.

"The man in the fancy getup and the lightsaber is mine, the rest of you, kill the woman."

As the snipers raised their weapons and Anslaf and the bandit chief got ready to clash, time slowed down for Lydia as adrenaline and military experience kicked in. She made her calculations in a split second before unholstering both pistols, and, quickly aiming for the first sniper, fired the powerful weapon, the superheated particles contacted the man's chest, frying his heart and lungs, and leaving two, quarter sized, burnt holes on each side. He died instantly. Lydia repeated the action for the other two snipers, and the two other bandits who were stood dumbfounded at the display of marksmanship. Lydia holstered her pistols and frowned, her total time of engagement had been ten point two seconds, not bad, but she knew she could do better. Meanwhile, Anslaf and the big brute of a bandit chief were locked in battle, as he was weighing his options. The chief outsized him by a good five inches, standing at six and a half feet tall, compared to Anslaf who was at five eleven. He also had a great deal more muscle mass, explaining why this guy chose to wield a heavy battleaxe, and was proving his strength too when the blade of his axe connected to Anslaf's white shield. The blow caused him to stagger back a few feet, almost losing his balance before having to duck from an axe swing meant for his neck. He countered with a left diagonal with his saber, which the bandit blocked with his axe. After parrying and countering a few more times, Anslaf suddenly remembered he had the means to end this fight; he shouted.

"**FUS**!"

The bandit chieftain stumbled backward near the edge, just as Anslaf thrust forward, his blue blade running through the other Nord's throat. With a surprised, dying gurgle, just as Anslaf deactivated the blade, the now dying chief was kicked over the edge by the Dragonborn's armored boot, his body disappearing in the river far below. Anslaf looked down into the river for a moment, and then walked back into the tower. They still needed to rest after all.

The rest of their trip to Ivarstead was uneventful. When they got to the town Anslaf made sure to head straight for the old homestead, a small farm operated by his mother, Emma Green-Winter, and his younger brother, the twenty year old Siggerd Green-Winter. He talked with them for a while, and promised his mother that he would try to message her as often as he could. He then made his way to the inn, where he talked to Klimmek about supply runs up the mountain, and agreed to take the supplies up himself. He and Lydia then started their ascent up the mountain. By about the five-thousandth step, they encountered something that they never expected.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Anslaf exclaimed upon sighting the frost troll, the simian creature bellowing loudly in response. He had been told by Klimmek that the only thing they'd have to worry about was the occasional stray wolf and the icy slopes, not a six foot tall three-eyed ape that was built on rage and muscle. To make matters worse the thing was blocking their path to the monastery. Anslaf sighed as he unclipped his saber from his belt. "Klimmek's gonna get it when I get back." He activated the saber and charged, shield raised, while Lydia provided cover fire. The vicious troll swiped a mighty fist that would have sent an unarmored man flying, and made contact with the white ebony shield, and Anslaf took that opportunity to slice of the beast's furry arm. The ape howled in pain, and was cut short by a saber slash to the neck, bloodlessly decapitating it as the burning plasma cauterized the stump. Anslaf looked at the now headless body and sighed again, as he deactivated his saber, and continued with his ascent.

It took a couple thousand more steps before their destination, one of the most imposing sites that the young Nord had ever seen in his life. A massive stone structure with a central tower stretched from the mountainside to the cliff, effectively creating a wall. Anslaf gulped as he and Lydia stepped up the stone steps to the massive bronze doors. Anslaf pushed them open and stepped inside. The interior was simple, almost to the point of being spartan, and had a solemn feel to it. He walked toward the center of the main hall, when four grey-robed monks approached him. One of them faced him, the eldest of the old men, and spoke to him.

"So, a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age." He spoke, in a polite manner in that also radiated years of stress and patience.

Anslaf questioned him. "You call me Dragonborn. What does that mean?"

The monk raised his hand. "First, let us see if you truly have the gift. Come Dragonborn. Let us taste of your Voice."

Anslaf tried his best not to grit his teeth. How could these monks question if he was Dragonborn if they said they already knew. He chased the thought away and drew a breath.

"FUS!"

The shout staggered the monk a little, though he quickly recovered and walked back.

"Dragonborn, it is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir, I speak for the Greybeard. Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?"

Anslaf answered, truthfully and honestly. "I am here to find out what it means to be Dragonborn."

Arngeir smiled. "We are here to guide you in that pursuit, just as the Greybeards have sought to guide the Dragon Blood, in ages long forgotten to history."

The younger nord took off his helmet, his longer brown hair messy from spending hours inside the thing. "I'm not the only one?"

"You are not the first, but whether you are the only one of this age, well, that remains to be seen. Are you ready to begin your training?"

Anslaf did not hesitate. "Yes."

The old man smiled again. "Good. Then let us begin."

And so the young Nord spent the next few months with the Greybeards, learning of the Thu'um, the Force, and what it meant to be Dovahkiin, his destiny and fate now taking shape and form, guided by the Gods.

* * *

Hey y'all, so sorry I haven't been with you for over the past five months. Work got in the way, and so did writer's block, and vacation, and everything else. But regrets are pointless. I'll start regularly updating weekly as to keep you enthralled, no more multi-month long updates. In other news, Star Wars Battlefront 3 is coming out! YAY! Well, I gotta go, please review and critique!


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